


Happy to Help

by RainbowLookingGlass



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Doctor Bitty, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Mentions of Emotional Abuse, Mentions of Suicide, NHL Player Jack Zimmermann, Panic Attacks, Suicidal Ideation, mentions of child abuse, mentions of hospitalization, mentions of self harm, psychiatrist Bitty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 09:55:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9434906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowLookingGlass/pseuds/RainbowLookingGlass
Summary: Bitty honestly just wants to sleep when he finds a man having a mental breakdown outside his apartment door. But Bitty could never just leave this poor soul and his companion to fend for themselves.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So most of the warning in the tags are about minor things in the story, so I'll post spoiler-y warnings at the end. If you're worried about any triggers you can look at that and decide if this story is for you. I promise it's mostly fluff, though.  
> Huge thanks to angryspaceravenclaw for helping me with ideas when I got stuck on this fic, constant encouragement, and generally being lovely.  
> Also, HIPPAA law states that you can talk about cases outside of work so long as you don't give any identifying information, so Bitty is still maintaining confidentiality.

After 4 years on a college hockey team, 4 years of living with medical school students, and a year into residency, there was really very little that could surprise Eric Bittle. A very large man rocking back and forth in front of his apartment door while an equally large man knelt next to him, trying to calm him down, would certainly do it. But Bitty was nothing if not good in a crisis, so he quickly strode to them and knelt, looking at the shaking, rocking man and trying to analyze the issue.

 

“Has he taken anything?” he asked the guy next to him, not looking over. He seemed to startle.

 

“No, I—I’m pretty sure he’s having a panic attack. He’s… the new guy at work, and is living with me for a bit. We were headed home, talking about work when he started hyperventilating, and suddenly collapsed like this. He’s not responding to me, I’m not sure what to do at this point…” He trailed off. Bitty looked over and his eyes widened at who he was talking to. Anyone who knew anything about hockey knew Jack Zimmermann, captain of the Providence Falconers. Bitty’s felt a bit starstruck, but now wasn’t the time for freaking out. Instead he fished his keys out of his pocket and reached up, unlocking the door.

 

“Can you go inside for me?” He asked the presumably rookie in a calm, gentle voice. It was the voice he’d used on the hotline phones through his years in college and the one he used on particularly frightened patients now. The rookie didn’t respond except to look up at him, tears in his eyes and whimpering a bit. Bitty took a deep breath. He really didn’t want to have to send this kid to the hospital. “Can you get him inside? I’m going to try to help him, but if he starts to lose consciousness from the hyperventilation we’ll have to take him to the hospital,” he said. Jack nodded, getting an arm around the rookie’s shoulders and pulling him to his feet, practically carrying him into the apartment. Bitty immediately headed into the kitchen, filling a mixing bowl with very cold water. He brought it into the living room, where the rookie had been deposited on the couch and was back to rocking, setting it on the coffee table.

 

“His name is Jimmy,” Jack told him. Bitty nodded his thanks, sitting next to Jimmy.

 

“Jimmy, can you understand me?” Bitty asked him gently. He thought there may have been a nod, but it was hard to tell. “I need to you put your face in the water for me. I’ll pull you when it’s time to come up, just hold your breath. Ready? On the count of three…” Bitty counted to three before placing a hand on the back of Jimmy’s neck, gently leading his head toward the water. Jimmy didn’t resist much, closing his eyes as the water came up to his ears. Bitty silently counted to twenty, then gently pulled on Jimmy’s shoulder. He came up easily, gasping at first but his breathing settling. He blinked, looking around in a bit of a daze, but the shaking and rocking had stopped. Bitty breathed a sigh of relief.

 

“How did you--?” Jack started to ask, but Bitty held his hand up to silence him. He needed to talk to this poor kid first.

 

“Hi, Jimmy. My name is Eric Bittle. Is it alright if we talk for a minute?” Jimmy still looked confused and a bit wary, but nodded. “It seems like you had a pretty severe panic attack. Has this happened before?” Another nod, more hesitant. “Often?” The most hesitant nod yet. “Can you tell me more about them?”

 

“I… I can usually handle them. It’s not that big a deal. Just sometimes I start thinking too much and my mind just kinda starts spinning, I guess? And then I can’t breathe and it’s hard to think and my heart beats too hard. But it usually stops after a while.” Bitty nodded.

 

“How often?” he asked. Jimmy chewed on his lip. It hit Bitty just how young this kid really was.

 

“Maybe once or twice a week? Not that often, really,” he insisted. Bitty nodded again, even though actually, that really _was_ pretty often. A sharp intake of breath from somewhere to his right indicated Jack knew this as well.

 

“Does anyone else know?” Bitty asked. Jimmy just shook his head, which seriously worried Bitty. “Can you tell me what caused this one?” Jimmy’s eyes flitted over to Jack. “We can ask him to leave, if you’d like, but I’d like to get an idea of how this is for you. I think you could use help,” Bitty told him gently. Jimmy took a deep breath.

 

“No, he can stay. He’d probably have to find out anyhow. I… we were in the elevator, talking about strategy, and about my weaknesses and how I could improve. All I could think about though was how I wasn’t doing well enough, wasn’t good enough for this. Like, the NHL is so hard, you know. I don’t think… I don’t know if I can do this. It’s too much all at once, I don’t think I can…” he trailed off, looking away. Bitty’s heart ached for him.

 

“How are you feeling right now?” He asked quietly. Jimmy shrugged.

 

“I don’t know. Hopeless? Scared?” he replied. “It’s been so hard to get here. I thought it would be easier once I got drafted. But it hasn’t, and I’m not sure if I want to do this anymore.” Bitty was starting to get worried. He hesitated before his next question, reverting back to his old hotline training.

 

“Don’t want to do what anymore?” he asked. Jimmy shrugged. Bitty’s heart sank. “Jimmy, I know this might be a hard question to answer, but some of the stuff you’re saying is a bit worrying, so I’d like to ask. Are you feeling suicidal?” Jimmy stared at the floor for a long moment before slowly nodding, tears falling down his cheeks again. Bitty put a comforting hand on his arm.

 

“It’s alright. Thank you for telling me. Do you have a method in mind?” He asked calmly. Jimmy took a shaky breath, and Bitty could feel the shaking starting again. “It’s alright, take a couple deep breaths. Nothing is happening right now, we’re just talking. Breathe with me.” Bitty took deep, exaggerated breaths until Jimmy was able to keep up with him again, until the shaking stilled. He thought he’d have to repeat the question, but Jimmy spoke first.

 

“It’s not like… I don’t have a plan or anything. I don’t even know if I want to do it? Just, I get so overwhelmed sometimes, and I’m afraid I’m not good enough, I’d rather die than let everyone down,” he explained. Bitty nodded thoughtfully.

 

“I see what you mean. Failure is terrifying, especially at the level you’re at.” Jimmy nodded, tears sliding down his cheeks again. “But that doesn’t mean it’s inevitable, or that suicide is necessarily the only way to fix it. How would you feel about figuring out a plan for right now if you do feel overwhelmed? Maybe we could look into some professional help for it?” Jimmy nodded, so Bitty went into the kitchen to get a pad of paper. They outlined some ideas on exercises he could do to reduce the panic and people he could call if he was feeling particularly bad. Jack assured him that no matter the time Jimmy could always call him or knock on his door, and Bitty gave him his number as well. At the bottom Bitty wrote out the numbers of several therapists and psychiatrists he knew personally and respected, and Jack promised to make sure they looked them up and called. By the time they finished Jimmy appeared as calm as Bitty had seen him, and as he stood to go he held his hand out to shake.

 

“Thank you so much, really, mister—umm…” he trailed off, clearly having forgotten Bitty’s name. Bitty smiled sweetly.

 

“Dr. Eric Bittle, but you can call me Bitty, sweetheart. It was no trouble at all. Don’t hesitate to let me know if you need me, alright?” Jimmy nodded, smiling. Jack cleared his throat.

 

“Head over to the apartment, Jimmy. I want to talk to Dr. Bittle for a minute,” Jack said. Jimmy nodded, thanked Bitty again, and left. Jack leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. “You’re good at this,” he stated. Bitty gave a startled laugh.

 

“Well, between volunteering for a suicide hotline during my undergrad and being a psychiatrist, I would hope so! Well, a psychiatry resident, I suppose, but nonetheless. It’s kind of my job,” Bitty explained. Jack raised his eyebrows in surprise. Bitty tried very hard not to be offended.

 

“I just want to make sure this doesn’t… get out,” Jack said slowly. Bitty narrowed his eyes at him.

 

“Mr. Zimmermann, I am a professional, not to mention a decent human being. What happened here stays here, and any further correspondence I have with Jimmy will remain equally confidential. If it makes you feel better, my roommate is a lawyer and I’m sure he would be more than happy to draw up an NDA, or you could bring a standard one for me. I’m sure you have to use them for various purposes. Either way, I can promise that nothing is leaving my lips,” he told Jack haughtily, his anger palpable in his speech. Jack looked slightly chagrinned, but nodded nonetheless.

 

“I’ll be by with one tomorrow,” Jack told him, making to leave. He hesitated, then turned back around. “Thank you, “he said softly, “I have… experience with anxiety, but this was beyond what I’m familiar with. I really appreciate you helping him out.” Before Bitty could respond Jack was out the door, closing it behind him. Bitty stared for a moment, before turning and heading to the bedroom. His shift had been exhausting enough, he was definitely due for a nap.

 

 

 

Jack wasn’t entirely surprised when a slightly shorter, brown haired man with a mustache opened answered the door. He was, however, plenty surprised when the man grinned and exclaimed, “Well I’ll be fucked! Jack Zimmermann! What can I do for you, you incredible Canadian hockey god?” Jack blinked in surprise, stepping back automatically but quickly stepping forward again into the apartment when Shitty held the door open for him.

 

“I um… is Dr. Bittle here?” He asked uncertainly.

 

“Bitty? Nah, man, he’s at the hospital, he has a twelve hour shift today. Poor kid, I found him passed out after a twenty-four yesterday, residency is fucking tough. What’d you need him for?” Jack was shocked. Bitty had done all that after a twenty-four hour shift?

 

“I—he said he would sign something for me,” Jack explained. Shitty frowned.

 

“What is he signing? I’m a lawyer, mind if I take a look?” Jack handed over the papers for Shitty to look over.

 

“Ahh… Can I ask why my southern sunshine of a roommate is signing an NDA for the Falconers?” Shitty asked, eyebrows raised.

 

“If you sign one too, I’d be more than happy to explain,” Jack said. Shitty gave him a long look.

 

“You don’t recognize me,” Shitty stated. “Not surprised, I do more behind-the-scenes shit at work, don’t interact much with the athletes. Shitty Knight, part of the official legal team for the Providence Falconers,” he introduced himself, holding out his hand and smirking. Jack felt his face heat up.

 

“Oh, um, I’m sorry. I suppose you’ve signed one of these before, then.” Jack muttered. “The new rookie, Fitzgerald? He has anxiety issues or something. He had a breakdown outside your door yesterday and I couldn’t calm him down. Dr. Bittle found us and brought us inside, he made Jimmy put his face in water and he miraculously calmed down, then talked to him for a bit. Ultimately convinced him to look into professional help, thank god. But uh, some really sensitive stuff was said. Not that I don’t trust Dr. Bittle, but…”

 

“You’d be stupid not to get it in writing,” Shitty finished for him. “I totally get it, brah. I’ll hang onto this, when Bitty gets home I’ll go over it with him and have him sign it. He’ll likely pass out, I’ll either bring this over to you or file it at work tomorrow.”

 

“If you could file it, that would be a huge help. I’d likely end up just handing it back to you, anyhow,” Jack told him. “Thank you.” Jack turned to leave before something dawned on him. “Dr. Bittle didn’t, um, didn’t tell you what happened with Jimmy?” Shitty shook his head.

 

“Nah, brah. Like I said, he was passed out when I got home, and even once he woke up he was tight lipped. Kid takes confidentiality seriously as fuck,” Shitty assured him. Jack nodded. If Dr. Bittle didn’t even tell his roommate, Jack felt certain he wouldn’t tell anyone else either.

 

“I really appreciate you help, Mr. Knight,” he said, holding out his hand to shake. Shitty grabbed his hand and pulled him in for a bro hug. It surprised Jack, but he was used to it enough from his teammates to go with it.

 

“Listen, if we run into each other at work I’ll let you get away with the Mr. Knight bullshit because of professionality and whatever the fuck, but in my home, you call me Shitty, brah. Hockey nickname, you should get it. Jack sighed internally but really, he did. It wasn’t unusual for the team to nickname the staff members.

 

“Shitty, then. Thank you. Guess I’ll see you around, eh?” They said their goodbyes and Jack left, relieved at this whole ordeal was over.

 

* * *

Bitty knew he was scowling as he headed downstairs to the gym in his building. He loved his job, but some days were just _bad_. He knew after working a 12 hour overnight shift then sitting through a couple lessons he should probably sleep, but he was far too frustrated to entertain the possibility. Maybe a nice long run would soothe him a bit.

 

He was setting his water bottle in the holder on the treadmill, admittedly with more force than necessary, when he realized Jack was just getting warmed up on the one next to him. They shared a polite nod, but neither tried for more conversation. Bitty put in his earbuds and started up his playlist, intending to drown out everything, including his thoughts.

 

Six miles later and Bitty finally slowed down for a cool down. He was breathing harder than he had since probably hockey conditioning in undergrad, his muscles screaming. He’d probably overdone it, but he figured he’d stretch and take it easy and be fine. He hopped off the treadmill and took out his ear buds when he heard a throat clear. He looked up and found Jack looking at him, a small towel slung around his neck, apparently done with his workout. He looked a bit nervous, so Bitty tried to smile at him, though he knew it didn’t quite meet his eyes.

 

“Are you alright?” Jack asked. “You seem a bit… unhappy.” Bitty sighed.

 

“I’m alright. Rough day at work, I suppose, but it’s part of the job,” Bitty explained. Jack nodded.

 

“I was going to get coffee after I showered. There’s a little café down the street, Annie’s, that I go to. Do you want to join me?” Jack offered. Bitty thought about it. He was exhausted, especially after his run, and Jack didn’t really seem like the particularly friendly type. But the idea of something warm and sweet was enticing, and it was probably best Jack was comfortable with him if Jimmy needed any more help.

 

“Sure, give me like half an hour?” They agreed to meet in the lobby of the building and went back to their floor together. Bitty took a quick shower, dressing in a blue button down and dark jeans and putting a bit of product into his hair. When he was satisfied he was presentable he grabbed his phone and wallet and headed downstairs. Jack was waiting for him, looking at something on his phone, but smiled when he looked up and saw Bitty. They walked the few blocks in companionable silence, Bitty trying not to make it too obvious he was still stewing over his shift.

 

When they got to the café Jack opened the door for Bitty, which Bitty thanked him for and got into line first. As soon as Bitty ordered, Jack came up behind him, ordering his own coffee and handing his card to the cashier over Bitty’s shoulder. Bitty sputtered and protested, but Jack just rolled his eyes. “I think I’m good for it, Bittle. Besides, I owe you,” he said as the cashier took his card, giggling. Bitty sighed but relented, thanking him as they went to wait by the counter. Once they had their drinks in hand they found a booth in the corner, slightly isolated from the rest of the bustling café.

 

“It… seems like you had a bad day,” Jack said hesitantly, “would you like to talk about it?” Bitty thought for a moment.

 

“I had a pretty rough shift at work,” he finally admitted. “Nothing I can’t handle, of course, just part of the job.”

 

“You looked pretty angry when you came down to work out,” Jack responded. The reminder made anger flare up again in Bitty’s chest.

 

“Yes, I was. Still am, if we’re being honest.” Bitty looked down at his drink. “I’m considering going for a pediatric fellowship. I love kids, and I want to help kids and be their voice when it’s hard for them to communicate. But the issue with working with minors, is you have to deal with their parents too.” Jack nodded a bit, encouraging him. “About two hours after my shift started, a teenager came in to the emergency room. She’d attempted suicide, relatively minor injuries. I was sent to assess her, not really strictly necessary since she was automatically a danger to herself, but it was a slow day and good experience for me. And I was surprised when I got there. The girl was pretty upbeat, really talkative, kinda sassy. I enjoyed assessing her, it was a nice change from the usual either sullen or frantic patients I usually get. It was a little dissonant to hear this happy kid talking about a history of depression and self-harm and such, but I still felt good when I left her with her tech.” He took a deep breath and bit his lip a bit.

 

“A couple hours later, there was a steep lull in the psych ward and I decided to go check on her, give the tech supervising her a break. Immediately I could tell there was a difference. Her mom had shown up, I found out later the girl had been refusing to let her in. The mom was… clearly angry. She spent most of her time either glaring at the girl or the tech. The girl was withdrawn, quiet, looked like she’d been crying. I thought… this was the girl I could see trying to kill herself. When I offered the tech a break she made a note on the clipboard, gave me a look, and reassured the girl she would be right back. The girl actually looked terrified of the tech leaving. I looked down at the clipboard, the tech had actually written very lightly ‘get the mom out of the room’ in pencil. I got lucky, the mom asked then where the bathroom was, and I sent her to the one on the other end of the floor. As soon as she left that little girl relaxed, tears ran down her face, and she tried to smile at me and thank me. I’ve seen a lot of things in my time in med school and my short residency, but that might’ve been the most heartbreaking. I erased the tech’s message and left her one that said ‘keep it up’ for when she got back. I know that tech, and she’s a hard worker, and I couldn’t be more thrilled that she’s the one the girl got. The girl told me the tech was the only one who’d actually asked her if she wanted to talk about it. I convinced the emergency attending and then my own supervisor to leave the girl in emergency so that she couldn’t be left alone with her mom unsupervised, then talked to social services. Apparently that was _after_ a social worker had spoken to the mom about her behavior. We discussed Child Protective Services and such but we just didn’t have enough probable cause for an investigation, and any kind of foster care or anything could be worse for her. I have a sinking feeling that this attempt was less about mental illness and more about abuse, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I made sure that social services found her a bed at a good inpatient facility, made sure either that tech or I were in that room at all times, and both of us kept the mom out as much as possible. The tech even stayed with the girl for x-rays and after her shift ended. She got permission from her supervisor, clocked out, and stayed on her own time because she was too afraid to leave the girl alone with her mom, and the girl was absolutely terrified of the tech leaving her side unless I was there.” Tears welled up in Bitty’s eyes and he clenched his jaw. Jack gently placed his hand over Bitty’s where it rested on the table, causing Bitty to look up. The gentle, sympathetic look made the tears spill over.

 

“That girl was young. She has years left in that home. And I can almost guarantee you she won’t recover properly until she’s out. She probably won’t even get proper care, she’ll just keep getting worse. Hopefully she survives it. If she does, it’ll probably shape most of the rest of her life.  It’s the type of abuse that nobody can do anything about, too. Her mom is wealthy and in a respected job and I’m sure on the day to day appears to give her daughter the world. There’s nothing I can do, save kidnapping the girl, to prevent this… destruction of a really beautiful person. It’s the most helpless feeling, and it’s one I need to get used to in this line of work, but lord is it difficult.” He wiped at his eyes and took a sip of his coffee. “Oh goodness, look at me, crying to you about the woes of my job. I’m sorry, Mr. Zimmermann, I promise I’m usually a much better time.” The hand over Bitty’s squeezed a bit, and Jack smiled.

 

“I’m glad you told me,” he assured Bitty. “That sounds heart breaking, and I hope the best for the little girl. I can’t imagine how difficult it must be sometimes, being in your field. Being able to help, but only so much, so many factors outside your reach. That takes a lot of strength. I’m glad your patients have you.” He sounded so earnest, Bitty couldn’t help but smile at him. They chatted idly as they finished their coffee, exchanging stories and talking about Providence a bit. Jack walked Bitty to his door when they were done, and Bitty smiled up at him.

 

Thank you, Mr. Zimmermann, I really needed that,” he told Jack. Jack chuckled a bit.

 

“Jack, please. And my pleasure, anytime. Have a good afternoon, eh? Get some sleep.” Bitty smiled at him.

 

“Then call me Bitty, all my friends do. Old hockey nickname that stuck.”

 

“Hockey? You played?” Jack asked, eyebrows raised. Bitty rolled his eyes.

 

“I know I may not look like it, but I was actually pretty good. Captain of my NCAA team and everything. Now, I think you mentioned something about sleep, and after being awake for nearly thirty-six hours, that’s sounding pretty good. Feel free to text me if you and Jimmy need help or if you want to get coffee again, or whenever you want,” Bitty told him. They said their goodbyes and Bitty went straight to his room, for the first time that day calm enough to pass out immediately.

 

* * *

Jack seemed to take Bitty’s offer of texting whenever to heart, much to Bitty’s surprise. It started with random questions about hockey occasionally, asking what position Bitty played and for what school. It morphed into updates on the help Jimmy was getting (with Jimmy’s permission, Bitty was assured), then slowly became general conversation. When Bitty’s crazy schedule allowed, he would work out with Jack, always going for coffee or frozen yogurt afterwards. Jack continued to insist on paying, making Bitty fondly exasperated. Slowly, Bitty realized he’d become friends with an NHL star. He felt like that fact should be weirder to him.

 

The daily pictures were one of Bitty’s favorite things about this newfound friendship. Once Bitty had found out about Jack’s photography hobby and demanded to see pictures, it became customary for Jack to send a picture or two of something he found interesting or that reminded him of Bitty. Today was a picture of a gosling snuggled up to its mother, while the mother appeared to glare at the camera. Bitty saw it as he settled down in the doctor’s lounge to eat a quick lunch between patients, and was smiling at it and thinking of a reply when a hand clapped on his shoulder.

 

“Yo Bits, who’s got you looking at your phone like that? You finally find a boy? Come on, let’s see him.” Bitty rolled his eyes as Ransom sat down next to him.

 

“Hello to you too, Ransom. And I suppose technically he’s a boy, but he’s not _my_ boy. He’s just a friend who sent me a cute picture. Don’t you have people to cut open and mess with or something?” After surviving undergrad, then med school, and now the first year of residency with Ransom chirping him every possible chance, Bitty was generally immune. But this time he felt a blush creep up his cheeks, couldn’t keep a small, shy smile off his face. Ransom looked like Christmas came early.

 

“Bullshit!” He cried gleefully. “I haven’t seen you turn that red since that cute dude made a sex noise when he tried your pie. Deets. Now.” Bitty sighed.

 

“There’s no deets, Ransom. He’s-okay, so I wouldn’t mind dating him? We have a good time together. But it’s never gonna happen, trust me,” Bitty said firmly.

 

“At least tell me the guy’s name,” Random begged, pouting ridiculously. And lord, Bitty would never live this down, but he was never going to get Ransom to stop either.

 

“Uh, Jack. Jack Zimmermann,” Bitty mumbled. Ransom’s eyes looked about ready to pop out of his head.

 

“Jack Zimmermann? As in, captain of the Providence Falconers, Jack Zimmermann? As in, won the Stanley Cup the season before last Jack Zimmermann? As in the _first openly queer NHL player_ Jack Zimmermann?” Bitty winced a bit.

 

“Ah, yes, that would be the one,” he said. Ransom stared at him for a minute, then grabbed the phone right out of Bitty’s hand. Bitty cried out in protest, trying to get the phone back. Ransom still worked out though, and still had nearly eight inches and seventy pounds on Bitty, so it seemed almost effortless for him to hold Bitty back with one hand and scroll through the messages a bit with the other, before typing out a messaged and finally tossing the phone back to Bitty. Bitty caught it easily, glaring daggers at Ransom. “You’re a menace,” he grumbled, unlocking his phone just as a new text came in.

 

Ransom had texted _I get off at 3, dinner tonight?_

Jack had replied _Let me choose? I’m sure you’ll be tired from your shift. I’ll pick you up at 6:30_

Bitty stared gobsmacked at his phone, before glaring up at Ransom. “Just because you found yourself two boyfriends doesn’t mean you’re god’s gift to match making, Justin Oluransi!” Ransom just laughed.

 

“He said yes, right? You’re welcome. I’ll tell Nursey and Holster you said hi, yeah? We can double with your boy sometime,” he winked before standing up. “Now, I do in fact have people to cut open and mess with. Deets tonight, bro. Or, you know, tomorrow works too,” he called over his shoulder. Bitty shook his head, but smiled again when he looked down at his phone. It looked like he had a date tonight.

 

Upon asking after his shift, Jack had told him to “dress nice, but not like suit nice”, which Bitty was pretty sure he could work with. He chose a blue, purple, and white striped button down shirt and dark grey slacks. Anxiety hummed through him as he got out of the shower and toweled himself off, blow drying his hair. He was pretty sure this was a date, it was implied it was a date, but Jack seemed to tend to take things at face value. What if he thought this was just friends hanging out? He was tempted to text him and make sure he knew, but he was pretty sure that was weird. He left his phone alone, dressing himself quickly and giving himself a once-over. Even he had to admit he looked good, even with the seemingly permanent dark circles under his eyes. He sat on the couch and scrolled through twitter, his knee bouncing, for a few minutes until he heard a knock at the door. Bitty all but ran, barely managing to open the door calmly but stopping short at what he saw.

 

Jack was wearing a plain black button down that fit against his broad shoulders perfectly, tucked into khaki colored slacks. His hair was mostly combed back neatly aside from one piece that curled against his forehead adorably, and he had a shy smile on his face. “Ready?” he asked, seeming almost shy. Bitty nodded, pulling the door closed behind him as he walked out. They took the elevator down to the parking garage, where Jack led them to a gorgeous, low-to-the ground car. Bitty glanced at the logo on the back before he climbed into the passenger side. A jaguar, of course. They made some small talk during the short ten minute drive, Bitty telling Jack a bit about his shift. They had to park down the block from the restaurant, and they enjoyed the warm summer night air. Jack led them to a small Italian place, getting them seated outside right along the waterfront, string lights hung up above them providing just enough soft light to see. Jack ordered them each glasses of wine, a type Bitty wasn’t familiar with, and they smiled shyly at each other as they looked over the menu. Bitty was pretty sure they were on the same page.

 

Dinner went smoothly, conversation interspersed with chirps and giggles alike. Jack told Bitty stories about being babysat by hockey legends and the hazing of his rookie year. Bitty told him about the ridiculous shenanigans of both college and medical students. Bitty couldn’t help but smile when Jack’s frankly absurd amount of food came out. Jack raised an eyebrow in question.

 

“I was raised in the South, and I cook and bake as hobbies,” Bitty explained. “There is nothing I love more than a boy who can eat.” Jack chuckled.

 

“I’m a professional athlete. I need between 5,000 and 6,000 calories a day, sometimes more if we make it to playoffs,” Jack said, twirling his fettuccini on his fork.

 

“Why, Mr. Zimmermann, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to seduce me,” Bitty chirped without thinking, then immediately turned bright red. Jack just smirked.

 

“Who said I wasn’t?” he asked cooly, though a slight flush of his own gave him away. Bitty giggled nervously.

 

“I am a gentleman, I don’t put out on the first date!” Bitty internally froze, worrying that he had managed to read all the signs wrong. But Jack just smiled.

 

“Incentive to have more then. As many as you want,” he told him, digging into his meal for real. Bitty felt his heart soar. It was confirmed; he was on a date with Jack Zimmermann. He wasn’t sure how this could be his life.

 

They drew out dinner, ordering dessert and savoring both the food and the conversation. Jack picked up the check, despite Bitty offering. They finally, reluctantly headed back to the car, Jack gently lacing his fingers through Bitty’s. Bitty’s heart was fit to burst.

 

The ride back was comfortably quiet, Bitty laying his hand over Jack’s on the gearshift between them. Jack walked Bitty back to his door, but Bitty hesitated when he grabbed the door knob. “Would you like to come in?” He offered. Jack smiled softly, but shook his head.

 

“I would love to, but I have an early skate tomorrow morning. Another time?” Bitty nodded enthusiastically. Jack gently cupped Bitty’s cheek, his eyes questioning. Bitty nodded just a bit, and Jack was leaning down. The kiss was sweet, closed mouth, only lasting a few seconds. Bitty pulled back for a second, then leaned up again, capturing Jack’s lips again, deepening it, reveling in the way Jack’s tongue felt and the way he just barely moaned when Bitty scraped his teeth against Jack’s bottom lip as they finally pulled apart. Jack’s eyes were dark, but adoring, looking at Bitty as if he’d hung the moon. “Can I see you again soon?” he asked, slightly breathless.

 

“Yes, of course,” Bitty breathed back. Jack smiled, gave him one last chaste kiss, then let go of him.

 

“Have a good night, Bits,” he said, letting Bitty open the door and go inside before walking to his own apartment down the hall. Bitty pressed his back against the door, hand over his heart. He didn’t know how this could be his life, but as he all but ran through the apartment to get to Shitty, he thought he just might owe Ransom a thank you after all.

 

* * *

“Sweetheart,” Bitty said, tone scolding. He was trying to stir a pie filling, but having his giant of a boyfriend octopused around him was making the task difficult. “We’ve been over this. The sooner this pie gets in the oven, the sooner we have some… free time,” he punctuated this my pouring the filling into the pie shell. Jack didn’t get off, but Bitty managed to get the top crust on quickly enough anyhow. He shrugged Jack off long enough to get the pie in the oven and set the kitchen timer, took his apron off, then went over and wrapped his arms around Jack, smiling sweetly up at him. “Now, we have just about an hour before that pie needs to come out, what—“ Bitty was cut off by Jack scooping him up, Bitty just barely managing to wrap his legs around Jack’s waist as he was carried off to the bedroom. Jack dropped him gently onto the bed.

 

“Two whole days,” Jack breathed, peppering kisses all over Bitty’s face. “Two days without roadies, or shifts, or any other plans. Just us.”

 

“Just us,” Bitty repeated, pulling Jack in for a deep kiss. Jack couldn’t help but smile into it, the thrill of kissing Bitty still not gone even after a year of dating. He stroked Bitty’s hair softly, just gazing at him for a minute. Bitty placed a hand on his cheek. “I love you, darling,” he said softly. Jack kissed him again.

 

“I love you too, Bits,” he said back, kissing him again. Bitty wasn’t sure he would ever quite get used to this, but he was perfectly okay with that.

**Author's Note:**

> The fic starts with Poots (at the time still called Jimmy) having a very intense panic attack due to fear of failure. He admits to Bitty he's passively suicidal and doesn't have a plan. Later, Bitty discusses a patient with Jack who attepted suicide and has a history of self-harm. Her mom is clearly abusive, which Bitty talks about, and Bitty gets upset over not being able to do anything about it to help the girl properly. Otherwise, all just fluff.  
> My tumblr is thesegayhockeynerds if you wanna say hi!


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